


Night Riders

by deklava



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dom Molly, Double Penetration, F/M, Light BDSM, M/M, Pegging, Sub Mycroft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 12,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1751156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deklava/pseuds/deklava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly's life is boring: to her anyway. She had hoped that Sherlock would be the one to change it, never guessing that a more suitable Holmes might be out there, waiting for her to take charge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chasingriver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingriver/gifts), [Konfessor2U](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konfessor2U/gifts).



> Note: This story was written for Chasingriver when she was ill with a cold.

Molly would later blame her actions on fever-induced insanity. She’d been coughing all week, until Friday night she couldn’t take it anymore and decided to do something crazy to either shock the cold out of her system or shock herself into forgetting that she _had_ a cold.

Yes, she’d been off her pins after too many martinis and not enough sleep. Otherwise she’d never have fucked Mr. Tall, Scary and Brilliant so hard she was still feeling it three days later.

Would she?

****

She’d gone to that new and trendy martini bar after work, as soon as she could scrub the smell of ‘eau de cadaver’ off of her skin. The hot shower loosened her cough somewhat, and the matching bra and knicker set boosted her confidence. Maybe she’d even get to show it to someone tonight: someone tall and handsome and supernaturally intelligent....

Not likely, though. Sherlock didn’t do martini bars, unless someone died in them first.

The waiter gave her a funny look when she asked for a drink “that everyone likes here”, making her blush. When it arrived, Molly scurried to a corner table and sat, trying to look as worldly as possible.

One bloke approached while she was in the middle of her third “drink that everyone likes here”, but something about him gave her the creeps. When she told him no thanks, she had a cold, he beamed and said, “Perfect, I’m a bug chaser.” Then he proceeded to tell her exactly what that was, and she nearly screamed for the doorman.

That resulted in two more hastily consumed drinks, which were playing funny games with Molly’s vision when a tall and imperious-looking gentleman walked through the door.

A custom-tailored cashmere coat, navy wool three-piece suit, and Italian leather shoes screamed of power, class, and money even to her befuddled brain. He had auburn hair that he wore combed back, accentuating his high cheekbones, sharp chin, and brilliant blue eyes.

Molly found herself patting her own hair, a nervous habit that kicked in whenever she found someone attractive. This man wasn’t anything close to a GQ model (neither was Sherlock, come to think of it, but whatever) but there was something about him that she found extremely hot.

She watched him go over to the backlit bar, sit down, and order a drink. When he handed over a glossy black credit card before studying the crowd slowly, like Sherlock so often did, Molly suddenly found the room too warm and looked down.

_No, Molly, forget it. Dressed like that and looking about, he’s here to meet someone a lot prettier and more confident than-”_

“Hello.”

She couldn’t have lowered her gaze for more than a few seconds, but there he was, standing in front of her, a glass of amber liquid in one hand and the handle of an ornate umbrella in the other.

“Hi,” she managed to say back. “Um, you’re probably mistaking me for someone else.”

“Am I indeed?” Without asking or waiting for an invitation, he sat down across from her. “And why is that?”

Molly felt as if she were burning up. He was wearing a spicy yet subtle cologne that caused her nostrils to quiver and gooseflesh to break out on her bare arms.

“Well, you don’t know me.”

He didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he scanned her from head to toe, smiling mysteriously. “I know about you.”

“What?”

“You work in a hospital morgue and you came here on the Piccadilly Line. You nearly forgot to feed your cat before leaving, or else you’d have been here earlier. You’re also trying to shake off the last vestiges of a terrible cold.”

Molly’s mouth fell open, turning it into an over-rouged ‘O’. “Who are you and how do you know all that?”

His smile widened. “My name’s Mike. And I know all that because I see it.”

“You do?”

Molly’s fourth drink arrived. After passing his credit card to the waiter before she could reach for her purse, he said, “Naturally.”

He reminded her so much of Sherlock: not physically, but he had an uncanny brilliance that she’d long thought was a uniquely Holmes attribute. Unlike Sherlock, he declined to elaborate on how he reached his conclusions. Mike struck her as a man who sought compliance, not praise. She should have protested his paying for her drink, but didn’t dare.

She hadn’t been so unsettled in awhile. Or turned on.

“Thank you for the drink,” she said as she picked it up. “I’m Molly. Molly Hooper.”

He bowed his head. The overhead lights played off his sleek red hair. “Charmed.”

“So why are you here tonight?”

Mike’s smile slipped a notch. “Like you, I am chasing something off.”

“Oh.” She stared at his hands. They were long and pale, and a gold band with a mysterious insignia winked on his right ring finger. “Are you trying to get rid of a cold too?”

“No, I’m afraid I’m afflicted with something worse.”

“Oh no. It’s not anything too terrible, is it?”

“I’m afraid so.” He gazed at the floor. “It’s boredom.”

He sounded so much like someone else that Molly was instantly wet.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly never asked him  why he had chosen her. As they climbed into the back of a black limousine that magically appeared when they left the bar, she only knew that she was insanely grateful and so turned on that her nipples poked through her bra and her knickers were a lost cause.

The moment they settled into the car’s dimly lit interior, Molly threw caution to the figurative wind. She was willing to bet that this was never going to happen to her again in this lifetime, and she’d be damned if shyness held her back.

Mike gazed up at her as she straddled him on the soft leather seat, skirt riding up her thighs. God, he had amazing eyes: so blue and brilliant and greedy. As he extended his face for a kiss, he murmured, “I must warn you, Molly Hooper, that I have very definite and unique needs. You might be frightened.”

It might not have been the sexiest invitation she’d ever gotten, but its vagueness and challenge exhilarated her. Molly brought her lips onto his and pushed her tongue into his mouth. At the same time, she reached out and pinched his nipples through his shirt. She’d enjoyed it when past boyfriends played with her there, and Mike responded just as enthusiastically. He groaned against her lips and bucked his hips upward.

“Yes, Molly. Be firmer with me.”

Fervently hoping that she wasn’t too drunk to be able to properly replay this later, Molly pushed against him, pinning him to the seat. His erection caused his trousers to tent obscenely, so she lifted herself up and rubbed her soaked pussy against it, causing their arousal to commingle on the expensive fabric.

God, she wished her old uni mates could see her now. Boring old Molly Hooper, whose usual Friday night date was an anatomy book, controlling the pleasure of a sexy man who was clearly rich enough to buy the nation.  She flailed inside at the thought of his desiring her so much that she could do anything she wanted to him.

An idea came to her, something she’d always wanted to try but been hindered by dull or selfish boyfriends. Grabbing his shoulders, Molly pushed him onto his back on the seat. He went down willingly, eyes gleaming with anticipation. After stopping long enough to pull off her knickers, she slid up his body and straddled his face.

_I can’t believe I’m doing this!_

Keeping her weight on her knees to avoid suffocating him, she hissed, “Now lick me until I come, and do a good job or it all ends here!”

Moaning against her wet flesh, Mike pushed his tongue deep inside her. She sighed with delight and squirmed as he put his entire face to work- chin, lips, tongue.

“Come on,” she gasped as she rode his face. “Give me something I can’t get with my own hand! Impress me.”

He did that, and more. Molly tried her best to maintain the bossy, assertive demeanor that seemed to arouse him so much, but his skilled tongue movements gradually undid her until she felt imminent orgasm tightening her insides. Arching her back and sliding forward, she sought another stimulation she’d never tried before, one that she knew would make her explode.

“Now put your tongue in my hole!”

God, even saying it made her unbearably hot.

She spread her buttocks to give him better access, and when she felt his intimate kisses there, nothing stopped her from coming so hard that she could barely breathe. Molly sobbed and grasped her cheeks so tightly that she bruised herself, the headiness of orgasm making the pain so delicious she craved something even crueller. If only her nails weren’t so damn short....

“Bite me!” she choked.

Mike shifted his mouth from her opening and dug his teeth into her creamy white skin. Molly shook all over and came again.

“More! The other one now!”

He complied, his breath hot and fierce against her aching flesh. The two orgasms winded her so completely that she didn’t come a third time, but the pain coursing from her sore muscles made her whimper in bliss. Molly crawled off of Mike’s face and slid to the floor, trying to catch her breath.

“Oh, my God. That was...”

“The first two orgasms you’ve had in eighteen days.” Mike lifted himself onto his elbows and smirked down at her. He managed to look composed despite having a massive erection and a face slick with her juices. “That was most enjoyable. I’m glad you let me oblige you.”

Molly nodded, unable to stop smiling. When her thighs stopped trembling, she got up onto her knees and reached for his zip. “Now let me oblige you.”

To her surprise, Mike grabbed her wrist. There was an edge to his voice now.

“Not that, Molly. Something else. As I informed you at the beginning, my needs are rather esoteric.”

 He released her and reached into a leather briefcase on the floor. Her pussy began pulsing again as she watched his long white fingers undo the combination lock. The case opened with a loud metallic snap that made her jump. Then he took out an apparatus that looked like a bunch of leather buckles dangling from a long, thick dildo.

Molly stared at it. Then she realised what he wanted.... what he was asking her to do.


	3. Chapter 3

“You want me to fuck you with that,” she said slowly, letting the idea sink in. In response, he handed it to her with a devious smile that made his lordly face even sexier. While she turned it over in her hands, heart rate accelerating, he sat up and pulled off his trousers and pants, and rolled onto his front on the leather seat. She had a brief glimpse of a large and beautifully shaped cock before his tight white buttocks captured her stare.

“I don’t require much preparation,” he informed her as he handed over a small bottle of lube. “I prefer to feel it.”

This entire scenario- riding through the city in a  fancy limousine with an obviously rich and powerful man wanting her to fuck him up the arse- was so far beyond anything that Molly had ever experienced that she felt like an actress in an elaborate porno flick. Throwing herself into the role, she attached the device to her hips and began lubing the dildo up, stroking its length slowly and sensuously. Mike watched her avidly, moaning under his breath when she rubbed her slick thumb teasingly over the thick head.

“Face down,” she ordered as she climbed onto the seat. “If I see you looking, I’ll backhand you.”

“Yes, Molly,” he replied, lowering his forehead onto his folded arms.

“And get that arse up.” She smacked one pale buttock. “I like my fucks showing me how much they want me.”

_My fucks. Oh, my God. Where did that come from?_

Like practically everything else she’d done tonight, this was new. But she was now really into it. The actress in her was giving way, and Molly could feel herself becoming That Person.

His hips swayed invitingly as she grasped them, pulling him toward her. Her fingers still glistened with lube, so she inserted one into him, seeking his prostate. When she found it, his body jerked and he moaned into his folded arms.

“Found it, did I?” Molly’s grin widened as she massaged the soft gland, making his moans dissolve into incoherent babble. “Should have told you I’m a doctor.”

Mike made a noise that sounded like “I already knew.”

She inserted a second finger, and then a third, ignoring the advice about little preparation. She was a doctor, sworn to do no harm, and the dildo hanging between her legs was a weapon of mass destruction. When he raised his head as if to protest, she leaned over and seized his hair with her other hand.

“You weren’t about to look at me, were you?”

He licked his lips. “No, Molly.”

“Good.” She released him and scissored him open a little more, until she was satisfied that at worst, the dildo would leave him walking funny the next day. Then she slid her fingers out, wiped them on the leather upholstery (thrilling as she did so), and pressed the dildo’s tip against his loosened hole.

Mike accepted it greedily. He pushed back as she entered him slowly. When the head popped inside, she paused, clinically-trained eyes surveying him for evidence of pain. There was none. On the contrary, he looked euphoric.

“Continue,” he said breathlessly, thigh muscles flexing as he rocked back and forth. “Give me all of it now.”

Well, if he was sure....


	4. Chapter 4

Gripping his hips to steady herself on the seat, Molly pushed forward until the soft skin of her belly pressed tightly against his arse. After giving him a few moments to adjust (a courtesy he didn’t appear to be interested in) she pulled back, took a deep breath, and slammed back into him.

“Yes, that’s it,” he exclaimed, reaching out and grasping the seat’s edge for leverage. “Fuck me hard. I require no mercy!”

She gave it to him with every ounce of force her small frame could muster and he took it all, riding the dildo like a heat-maddened cat. Molly knew that she’d found his prostate once again when he keened and arched his back.

“Molly, I need to come. Please, may I?”

The plea threw her off for a moment. Very few people in her personal or professional life added ‘Please’ when they asked her for anything, Sherlock included. She was more used to demands. Mike made her feel like a queen. No, better than a queen. A goddess.

Then she realized that he hadn’t touched his cock once. Despite her furious excitement a twinge of sympathy arose, but she didn’t want to lose her stern persona. Nor did he, probably.

He was so close. She could feel it, his shivering hips jostling the harness straps and making her clit throb. Very well, then....

Molly gave her permission, but before he could reach for his cock, she grabbed his hair again. The dark red strands were now loose and wavy from all the sweating and exertion, reminding her of someone else’s richly coloured curls. After turning his face toward her, she lifted her other hand and slapped his cheek. Hard.

His eyes widened with shock. Then, incredibly, his lust-blown pupils became even larger.

“I’m offended that you haven’t touched yourself yet. Don’t you find me attractive?”

The skin on his cheek was livid with her handprint. “Oh, yes, Molly. You are exquisite.”

“Then show me.” She released him, drew back, and resuming fucking him.

“Yes, Molly.”

Mike took his erection in hand and stroked it, the pace becoming more frantic until he shuddered and came all over his fingers and abdomen. Some of it hit his chin and hung in wet strings until he wiped them away, gasping for air.

Behind him, Molly ground her aching pussy against the dildo’s textured base, letting it tease a third knee-shaking orgasm out of her.Then she fell across his back, boneless, and breathed in his now-musky scent of sweat, cologne, and freshly released male hormones.

When the roaring in her ears died down, Molly could hear the sounds of the outside world seeping in: car horns, club music (must be somewhere trendy now) and the raucous voices of people having a good time. She dreaded going back to it: she wanted to stay in here, where she was a goddess and not boring old Molly Hooper, whose life was so dull that she could actually remember how Sherlock liked his coffee.

Molly reached for Mike’s hand. When she found it, her grip was so desperate that shame crept in. But instead of shaking her off and asking if she wanted a ride home, Mike squeezed back.


	5. Chapter 5

_The next morning_

“You’re not going to see her again, are you?” Sherlock asked.

Mycroft looked up from his plate. ”To use a plebeian term, brother-mine: what’s it to you?”

Sherlock’s eyes widened for a split second as he took in everything: his brother’s reddened cheek, the faint bite marks on his thin lips, the way the older man padded his office chair before sitting down. Then they narrowed.

“Seeing her again was not part of the agreement, Mycroft.”

“There was no agreement. You complained incessantly about how frustrating her misguided infatuation was. I told you it would be handled with no harm to anyone involved.” Mycroft patted his mouth with a napkin before picking up his fork again. “I believe the problem is solved.”

Sherlock said nothing. He couldn't dispute that the problem did appear to be solved. But he hadn't expected- or wanted -Mycroft to benefit from the solution.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft said.

“What?” the younger Holmes snapped.

“She’s the best cure for boredom imaginable. And a lovely woman. No need to remember me at Christmas- I've been amply rewarded.”

Sherlock’s frustrated scowl was Mycroft’s second gift.

******

When Molly woke up, she ached everywhere. That was nothing new: the cold had been brutal. This ache was different, though. Nicer.

She was naked, but her bed’s thick duvet protected her from the morning chill. She didn't remember telling Mike where she lived, or giving him her key, but here she was: safe in her own flat.

She’d dreamed that a young brunette woman who seemed obsessed with a Blackberry had pulled off her sweat-stained dress, scrubbed her down with a wet flannel, and tucked her in bed, but that had been a dream, right?

A bottle of water and two tablets sat on her bedside table, reminding her that part of the pain was from a hangover.

She, Molly Hooper, had a hangover. It was marvellous.

A business card was propped against the water bottle, its edges crisp despite the moisture on the bottle’s surface. She picked it up.

There was no name, just the address of a club called the Diogenes. Above it was a message, written in elegant yet masculine handwriting.

_I shall call for you at 8.00 p.m. No mercy required. Mike_

Molly smiled. “Then none will be shown,” she whispered, and was thrilled to find that she meant it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because so many of you insisted, the Mollcroft adventures have continued. Let's all have fun on this journey!

Molly couldn’t stop crying.

Of all the days for Marissa to do this to her. All the goddamned _fucking_ days.

I should hate her, Molly thought as she gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. What she did was unfair. But I miss her already.

She’d been deliriously happy when she got out of bed that morning, aching hips and pleasantly sore cunt reminding her that there could be a repeat performance with Mike tonight. Then she checked her email to see if Marissa had commented on her latest Dr. Who fan fic... and was promptly shattered.

Now, three hours later, she was still in pieces.

The door opened. Molly stuffed the damp tissue into the pocket of her lab coat and rubbed her eyes, but not before Erin saw everything.

“Molly? What is it?”

Erin was an attractive brunette who’d started at Barts that morning. Molly wasn’t sure what her job title actually was, but Dr. Peterson had said she’d be assisting the pathologists with tissue biopsy analyses and other lab-based work. She seemed nice, if a bit obsessed with her Blackberry, but Molly didn’t feel comfortable confiding in a stranger.

She’d only confided in Marissa, her online friend of three years. Realising that this support was now gone, Molly’s lip trembled and tears wavered on her lashes again.

“It’s nothing,” she managed to say.

“I think you’re hardly the sort to cry over nothing.” Erin pushed the bathroom door closed and approached. “What’s happened?”

Grief had made short work of Molly’s defenses. “You’re going to think I’m dreadfully silly.”

“If something’s made you this upset, then it’s hardly silly.”

Molly blew her nose and took a deep breath. “A friend -my only close friend, really- turned her back on me this morning. I- I’m still having a hard time with it.”

Erin nodded sagely. “Did you two have a row?”

“Not exactly. Not that I was aware of, anyway.”

Molly was too embarrassed to tell her the truth: that she’d never actually _met_ Marissa, who lived in New York. They had connected via AO3, a popular fan fiction site where both had regularly contributed Dr. Who stories. They had originally communicated as fans of one another’s work, but as time passed they began chatting enthusiastically via email. Soon they were sharing everything.

Marissa had been wonderful for her. Being a fan fic writer herself, she never mocked Molly’s obsession with writing stories like her other friends would do if they knew. (She had nightmares about Sherlock deducing it one day!) She encouraged Molly to be herself, something only friends of the soul mate variety really do.

Who would do that now?

Erin was watching her sympathetically, so Molly continued, praying she wouldn’t embarrass herself.

“We- we used to communicate a lot. Every day, practically. Then for the past six months, it’s been different. I’ve had to work longer hours, and sometimes I was so tired that we wouldn’t speak for days.” Molly shook her head. “I don’t think she understood that, although she never said anything to me. I was out of touch a lot of this week because I’ve been ill, and this morning she sent me an email saying she basically couldn’t be bothered with me any more.”

Those hadn’t been Marissa’s words, exactly. What Marissa had said, in cold and controlled prose, was that she was no longer interested in a friend who had no more time for her. The reason for Molly’s unavailability -the punishing work hours and the fatigue and illness that entailed- was irrelevant. All Marissa knew or cared about was her own disappointment and anger.

“I’m really sorry to hear that,” Erin said. “Just out of the blue like that? Sounds heartless.”

Molly was surprised by her sudden vehemence. “It was more than heartless! It was bloody _cruel_. How dare she? I mean, I have to sell my soul to this place to pay my rent and look after my mum, and she doesn’t even work. How could she be so selfish?”

“She doesn’t work? Must be nice.”

“She used to be a flight attendant. Hurt her back, and hasn’t worked since. Gets a pension of some sort.”

Erin touched her shoulder. “Molly, this may not be what you want to hear, but it’s better this way, it really is. It sounds like your friend is not in a position to understand your circumstances because hers are so different. And if she treated you this way without you intentionally bringing it on, then she doesn’t deserve you.”

Molly couldn’t respond. She was too busy trembling. Erin’s hand lowered to her back and rubbed gently.

“Have you got other friends?”

“Not like her.”

“A bloke then?” The other girl smiled gently, but her gaze suddenly became penetrating. “You’re a pretty girl. You must have someone who likes you.”

“Yeah. And I’m supposed to see him tonight.” Molly shook her head. “But now I’m not sure I will.”

Erin frowned. “What? Why?”

‘I’m shattered, for one. And I’m not sure I want to trust someone again.” Molly turned to the sink, splashed cold water on her face, and examined her reflection. Her eyes were still red, but the blotches were fading from her complexion. “Sherlock- you’ll meet him soon, he’s always in the lab- says that alone protects him. Maybe he’s on to something. I never see _him_ crying.”

With that she left the bathroom, so abruptly that she didn’t see a worried-looking Erin take out her Blackberry and frantically tap its keys.

******

When Molly checked the lab’s industrial-sized clock, she saw that it was nearly seven-thirty. Everyone else had gone home long ago, but she’d elected to remain. Not because she had to: for the first time in weeks, her desk wasn’t loaded with files needing entry into the hospital system. She needed a distraction, and work was a safe one.

Mike had said he’d be coming at eight, presumably to her flat. Molly took his card out of her pocket and picked up her mobile. She had to text him, let him know that she was indisposed. And she was: she was still so distraught over Marissa’s callous behaviour that all she wanted to do was crawl in bed as soon as she got home.

“Molly?”

That soft, familiar voice made her squeal, and not with joy. Molly jumped so violently that her chair went flying and her mobile nearly did too.

Mike stood in the doorway, his long black winter coat making him look even taller and more imposing. A ruby-red silk scarf peeked over the expertly tailored lapels, and strong gloved fingers rested on his umbrella handle.

“I apologise for frightening you,” he said, surveying her with an intensity that reminded her so much of Sherlock it was scary. “But I really don’t think you should be alone tonight.”


	7. Chapter 7

It took Molly several seconds to get her breathing under control. “H-how did you know where I was?”

He lifted an eyebrow.

“Oh. Right. You look at people and see things. Right now I don’t think you’re going to look at me and be impressed.”

“I look at you right now and I am not impressed, no. I’m concerned.” Mike approached, his shoes shiny and flawless against the stained floor tiles. “You look as if you could do with a sympathetic ear. Tell me where you would like to go for dinner.”

Molly shook her head. “It’s fine, really. I’m not hungry.”

“Well, I am. I’d be pleased if you’d honour me with your company again. Whether you confide in me or not is up to you, of course.”

He offered her his arm, such a gallant and rare gesture that she smiled despite herself and took it. By the time they reached the street outside, Molly was hungry again, but not for food. It was positively freezing outside but her nether bits were warm and moist.

The car that met them in front of Barts was the same one that hosted such aggressive bliss the night before. As she got inside and settled down on the freshly polished seat, she saw that no traces of their tryst remained. Except in her memory, of course, which was turning out to be more than sufficient.

To hell with Marissa and her mind that worked in such mysterious ways. She deserved better. And _this_ was unquestionably better.

“You look divine, Molly.”

She turned to face him. “Even with the formaldehyde stains and bad hair?”

He smiled. It lit up his austere face. “I never noticed any of it.”

“But you see everything.”

“Only what’s worth seeing. The rest is promptly deleted.”

Mike picked up her wind-chilled hands and delicately kissed the fingers. Then he leaned in so close that his body heat warmed her exposed skin and purred in her ear, “I have very definite and unique needs, as you well know.”

Oh, how she knew. She was now impossibly wet, but managed to keep her tone firm.

“Then get on the floor and beg me to satisfy them.”


	8. Chapter 8

He stripped when ordered, folding each item of clothing neatly and with a composure that was distinctly at odds with the erection that poked into the night air. A fine sheen of sweat coated his upper lip, but he did not wipe it off. When he finished undressing he sat back, heels pressed against his buttocks and eyes fixed on her face like she was a queen and he a mere acolyte.

Molly stared back at him, her gaze steady as she slowly took everything off: the navy wool sailor coat and low-heeled boots, followed by her maroon jumper and loose tweed trousers. When she unhooked her bra and let her firm white breasts hang loose, Mike shifted and made a low, hungry noise that gave her an idea.

Leaving her black knickers on, Molly slid to the far end of the seat and nodded at the wide space beside her. Mike climbed obediently onto the seat. His expression was impassive but his eyes gleamed and his cock trailed sticky fluid in his wake.

Once he was flat on his back on the rich leather, she climbed up his body and straddled his waist, rubbing her lace-covered arse against his shaft to inflame him further. When he moaned her name, she claimed his mouth with hers. It was a deep, vicious kiss that made her feel hotter and crueller.

“I am going to drive you mad,” she promised. “I will make you beg and go deaf when you do.”

“Please,” he said. It sounded like more of a request to continue than a plea for actual mercy.

After ordering him to close his eyes, Molly leaned over and brushed the freckled expanse of his chest with her nipples. Mike moaned with approval and arched his back off the seat to intensify the tickle-light contact, but she slid off and shoved him back down so abruptly that he gasped.

“Do that again and you won’t come at all.”

“Yes, Molly. I’m sorry.”

She was both devious and thorough as she toyed with him, brushing his hip with her long hair one minute and swirling her tongue lightly around his navel the next. When her soft lips found the head of his cock, he whimpered and shifted.  She lingered for one tortuous minute before taking him into her mouth and and sucking the tip, hollowing her cheeks and using enough pressure to inflame him into crying out her name. His hips jerked and his knuckles whitened.

“ _Molly._.. my queen....”

Queen. The reverent exclamation took even more of the edge off of her pain over Marissa.   _Selfish twat.... she was an online illusion. This is real. A cold-hearted fangirl  might find fault with me, but to Mike I am a queen...._

Heart racing , she pulled her mouth away, straddled his thighs, and gripped his shaft. “Look at me.”

He obeyed, lips parted in an expression of awe and sexual agony.

Molly released his cock, which hardly needed steadying: it was painfully stiff and pointing directly upward. Shuffling forward and gasping the seat for balance, she rubbed the front of her wet knickers against him and glided up and down.

“You’re so close, Mike. And so am I. Feel me. I’m so wet.”

She continued to rub against his cock, relishing the way his lower lip disappeared between his teeth and his hip movements became more erratic. She was so close to completion: another minute and she’d be squirting all over herself....

But no. Not like that.

“Touch me,” she hissed.

Mike eagerly extended his hand. She grabbed it and guided him toward her cunt.

“Touch me there, you bastard.”

She pulled the crotch of her knickers to one side and he plunged two fingers easily into her hot core. As he began pistoning them in and out, sending juices coursing down her thighs, she stroked him faster.

“That’s it.... fuck me like that until I come. Make it good, and I’ll let this-” she nodded down at his shaft “-inside me next time.”

“Oh God, Molly. Yes.”

Much as she wanted to ride him, the decision to hold back -this time, anyway- made her feel powerful. She was stronger, stronger than she’d given herself credit for. She didn’t need anyone’s endorsement or approval.

Even Sherlock’s.

They fucked each other’s fingers in unison until orgasm claimed them both. Feeling his semen gush over her fist, Molly clamped hard around his probing and stretching digits, nearly crushing them as she came so hard that he was soaked to the wrist. Her world tilted as she collapsed backward, hair spilling across his legs and pussy sliding wetly off his fingers.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

Molly felt Mike slide gently from underneath her. A compartment opened and closed. Then he settled alongside her on the wide seat, a warm blanket covering them both.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Soft lips touched her hairline. “You’re most welcome, Molly Hooper.”

For awhile there was only silence save the gentle hum of the luxury car’s motor.  Then Mike said, “Let us go to dinner now. I’ve just developed a marvellous appetite.”

Molly snuggled closely. “Me too. But I reckon I should go home first.”

“Really? What for?”

“Clean knickers. I’m sure you’ve noticed that these ones aren’t so fresh any more.”

To her surprise, he chuckled. “I think you’ll find a few pairs in a box under the seat. Size ten.”

Molly blinked in surprise before giggling. “You really do know everything, don’t you?”

“I know enough.” Mike reached out from under the blanket, lifted her chin, and gazed solemnly at her. “Someone hurt you today.”

“Yes. A friend. But I don’t think I care so much any more.”

“Nor should you. Have you ever read anything by Don Miguel Ruiz?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I highly recommend him. In _The Four Agreements_ , he wrote, ‘Even when a situation seems so personal, even if others insult you directly, it has nothing to do with you. What they say, what they do, and the opinions they give are according to the agreements they have in their own minds. …If you do not take it personally, you are immune in the middle of hell.’”

“I like that.”

“So do I. It helps me do what I need to do.”

“Which is?”

“An impossible job indeed.” Mike patted her hip with his other hand. “I’m hungry. Let’s have dinner.”

Molly smiled. “Excellent idea.”

******

_The next day:_

Sherlock paced the office, gloved fists clasped behind his back and long coat trailing in his agitated wake.

“Mycroft, I really think this has gone too far.”

“Really?” The elder Holmes looked up from his laptop. “By my estimation, it hasn’t gone far enough.”

“I was at Barts this morning. Molly forgot to bring me coffee. She _never_ forgets to bring me coffee. You were supposed to make her more tolerable, not an oblivious idiot.”

Mycroft looked back down, a smile curling his lips. “Did it ever occur to you that she might have more important things to think about than keeping you caffeinated?”

“Don’t be stupid. It’s Molly.”

Mycroft’s only response was a shake of his head, which annoyed his younger brother further. “This isn’t the end of the discussion,” Sherlock warned before huffing out of the office.

Thinking of what he had planned for Molly on Saturday, Mycroft said, “Assuredly not.”

 

**Author's Note:** Mycroft has arranged a threesome for Saturday. I haven't yet decided, who the third party will be. So you guys get to vote. The character with the most votes by Friday will join Molly and Mycroft for some fun ;) 


	9. Chapter 9

“You’re not going to tell me what it is, are you?” Molly sighed as they rode the lift to the hotel’s penthouse suite.

“Naturally not. Birthday surprises are meant to be just that, my dear. Surprises.”

When he told her over dinner at the Dorchester that he’d booked the Royal Suite at the Lanesborough to celebrate her birthday, she’d flushed with gratitude- and lust. No one had ever revered her like Mike did. She didn’t even mind that she’d never been to his home or met his family or even knew his last name (except that it started with H): every encounter had brought out the inner goddess that all the erotica books were on about these days, and she was happy to let their relationship develop at a slow and scorching pace.

She gazed at herself and Mike in the lift’s floor-to-ceiling mirror. They looked good together. He wore a navy blue custom-tailored suit with a faint pinstripe, its assertive yet conservative effect offset by a blood-red tie and the glittering watch chain draped across his middle. She wore a sleeveless black sheath dress that hugged her slim figure and black pumps that added over four inches to her height. A freshwater pearl necklace and the elaborate chignon that her hair had been twisted into made her feel like the queen Mike seemed to see her as.

Mike noticed her admiration like he noticed everything else. Shifting his umbrella to his other hand, he reached out and drew her close.

When the lift stopped and swooshed open to admit them into the Royal Suite’s private vestibule, a young man wearing the dark suit and earpiece of a professional minder nodded respectfully and unlocked the double doors with a magnetic key. Mike thanked him and ushered Molly inside.

The splendor of the suite made her hand fly to her mouth. She knew that it was costing Mike over ten thousand pounds a night and had expected something spectacular, but the luxurious furniture, chandeliers, oil paintings, and ceiling-high windows overlooking Constitution Arch surpassed her expectations.

“Oh, my God. It’s... it’s like Buckingham Palace.”

“Parts of it, yes.” Mike hooked his umbrella handle over his arm and stood behind her, rubbing her bare shoulders. “Fit for my queen.”

His lips touched her skin, making her shiver.  Inflamed by lust and awe, Molly spun around, took his face in her hands, and kissed him.

“I love it. Thank you. You really shouldn’t have: even if you do have more money than the Bank of England!”

“Yes, they come to me for a loan now and then,” Mike said. He actually sounded serious. “But this is only part of your birthday gift.”

“What?”

“Come.” He peeled off his slim-fitting gloves, laid them on a mahogany side table inlaid with gold, and took her hand. Together they crossed the sitting area and down a small corridor. Another minder in a dark suit and wearing an earpiece stood at attention in front of a partly open door.

“I just checked on him, Sir,” he told Mike. “All is well.”

Molly stared at Mike. _Him?_

“Excellent.” Mike’s eyes gleamed. “Molly, I do hope that he meets your expectations.”

Before she could voice any of the million questions now clamouring in her head, he pushed the door all the way open, revealing a blindfolded and gagged figure tied comfortably yet securely to the massive four-poster bed. The man was fully dressed, but condoms, lube, and assorted toys were assembled on the bedside table, along with scented candles, suggesting that he’d be soon be naked.

“Happy birthday, my queen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, who will it be :) Lestrade or John? Or someone else? You have until midnight today (June 27) to get your votes in.


	10. Chapter 10

“Oh, my God,” Molly breathed as she stepped closer to the bed. “It’s- it’s Detective Inspector Lestrade.”

Hearing his name, Greg Lestrade lifted his head off the plump, tassell-edged pillow. He shifted on the mattress but didn’t seem inclined to struggle or escape.

Mike handed his umbrella to the minder, who took it and exited the room, shutting the door in his wake.

“Yes, Mr. Lestrade has handled certain security matters for me in the past,” he said as he joined Molly next to the bed. “He’s confessed to a high admiration for you. Apparently you attended a Christmas party one year wearing a black dress that did wonders for his libido.”

Molly remembered that party. Sherlock had mocked and ridiculed her in front of everyone, and Mr. Lestrade had called him down for it. She’d always found him attractive, with his steel grey hair, rugged yet handsome face, and body hardened by years of hands-on police work. And now he was here, a willing and, judging by the bulge in his trousers, eager birthday offering.

“You told me that you’d wondered what a threesome would be like.” Mike slid his fingers up and down her arm. “Are you ready for find out?”

Molly was still gobsmacked, but now a fierce wet heat was burning between her legs. She needed to stop puzzling over how and why, and just accept that Mike knew everything and could accomplish anything.

She wanted to ride them both until they exploded inside her and made her scream. She wanted to see them pleasure each other, rough and affectionate and virile. And once the birthday games were underway, she wanted to discover more things she’d never realised that she needed.

“Yes,” she declared. “Right now.”

Seeing how her eyes brightened with lust, Mike smiled. “Then set the stage, my lady.”

Molly thought of all the Eleventh Doctor  / Rory Williams slash she and Marissa had written before the latter’s feelings turned to ice. She remembered the scenes that had turned her on so much that her vibrator rarely left her bedside. Images of naked males grunting and clutching each other in aggressive passion, semen trickling down muscled backs and strong thighs. Now it was going to happen- under her direction.

“I want to watch you fuck him until he comes all over you. Then you’re both going to lick me all over while I decide who gets to fuck me first.”

Lestrade shuddered in his bindings. A wet patch slowly spread on the front of his trousers.  Mike’s tongue wet his lips as he nodded.

“As you wish.”

Then, eyes burning as brightly as Molly’s, he removed his jacket and waistcoat, folded them, and laid them on a brocaded chair. After loosening his silk tie and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, he climbed onto the bed, every move sleek and sensuous.

“Marvellous,” he murmured as his strong hands ran possessively up and down the bound policeman’s spread thighs. He bent down and touched his tongue to Lestrade’s wet crotch, applying just enough pressure to tease. Molly, remembering Mike’s superb oral skills, pressed her thighs together as the DI groaned and arched his back.

After toying with Lestrade a few minutes longer, Mike sat up, reached back, and released the snaps securing the other man’s ankles to the bedposts. Then, after giving Molly a smouldering grin, he plucked a bottle of lube off the bedside table with one hand and reached for Lestrade’s belt with the other.


	11. Chapter 11

While Mike divested Greg Lestrade of his trousers, Molly stripped down to her lacy black thong. The soft flesh between her legs was so swollen and wet that her thighs glided together when she kicked off her high heels, but she kept her hands at her sides. One touch and it would all be over, and that simply wouldn’t do.

Mike slid Lestrade’s now-damp boxer-briefs off, letting the other man’s erection bob free. Lestrade clenched the gag between his teeth and pushed up, seeking friction, but Mike only chuckled and patted his bare knee.

“Patience, Gregory.”

When he reached for the lube, Molly climbed onto the bed, straddled Lestrade’s waist, and clasped him behind the knees. As she drew his legs toward her chest, she said, “This view is much better.”

“Most assuredly,” Mike smiled as he squeezed lube all over his fingers. After giving Molly a look that smouldered with promise, he reached down and slid his fingers slowly around Lestrade’s hole. The policeman grunted and tried to push his hips downward, but Molly tightened her grip.

“Now, now,” she chided.

“He’s just eager,” Mike said mildly. “He hasn’t masturbated for an entire week, after all. Trust me, it makes for an impressive... denouement.”

Molly bit her lip. Lestrade’s erection was barely an inch from her belly. She debated sliding forward and rubbing herself against it, but held back. If Lestrade could wait for a week, she could wait for a matter of minutes.

Mike slowly pushed his forefinger into Lestrade’s body. Together he and Molly watched as the slick digit slid in and out. After a few moments he added another and began scissoring gently, stroking the other man open. Lestrade arched his back again, nearly shaking Molly off by accident, and made noises that sounded like pleading. She shivered in bliss, finding the raw sounds more erotic than verbal begging.

“Give him a third,” she ordered. “He can take it.”

“Not only that- he appears to want it. Don’t you, Gregory?”

Lestrade nodded frantically.

Molly stared as a third and then a fourth finger disappeared into Lestrade’s hole. She was impossibly wet now, knowing that soon Mike’s thick cock would slowly sliding into the policeman’s overheated body, stretching him and teasing his prostate in a way that fingers couldn’t.

Lestrade started bucking, sending sticky droplets of precome showering across Molly’s belly. Mike was now giving him a ruthless prostate massage, making him struggle blindly for friction for his aching cock.

Molly couldn’t wait any longer. “He’s ready. Fuck him now.”

Mike nodded his agreement and pulled out carefully. After wiping his fingers on tissue from a gold-rimmed bedside box, he slid off the bed and stripped, not bothering to fold his expensive clothes for once. He looked positively feral as he applied a lubricated condom and climbed back onto the bed, eyes glowing and gaze intent.

Molly released Lestrade’s legs so they could drape over Mike’s shoulders. Then she slid onto the mattress and knelt on its soft surface, ready and eager to enjoy the show.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Mike lifted Lestrade’s legs over his broad, freckle-dotted shoulders and shuffled forward. As his cock pressed in, the policeman winced and gripped the chains that secured his wrist cuffs to the ornate headboard.

Molly leaned in for a closer look, so excited she could barely breathe. She watched Lestrade’s body rebel against the initial penetration, the ring of muscle clenching down and spasming. How stretched and tight and full he must be feeling right now.

Mike met her stare. “It’s his first time since uni,” he said, pausing to let the other man’s body adjust to his girth. “I’m afraid the plug he wore all day didn’t prepare him adequately.”

Plug? All day? Even while supervising crime scene investigations and interrogating suspects? Molly caught her breath and started caressing herself through the lacy knickers, applying just enough pressure to inflame her lust further. This was too incredible to be real, too amazing, it really was. Mike was a fucking genius. And he was hers.

Exhaling loudly through his nose, Lestrade started rocking his hips. Smiling triumphantly, Mike pulled back until only the tip of his sheathed prick remained embedded. Then he shoved back in so hard and deep that their balls slapped together. Greg Lestrade cried out in what sounded like pain, but at the same time he pushed back, wordlessly demanding deeper and harder penetration.

Molly’s lower lip stung sharply as she bit deep. She imagined what Lestrade must be feeling as Mike’s large cock plowed into him with a force and rhythm that was both punishing and rewarding. How hot and sore and satisfying it had to be.

Mike was watching her with a hungry grin. “How are you enjoying your present so far?” he queried between thrusts.

“Loving it. Just like you two are.”

“May I see?”

Understanding what he wanted, Molly sat back on her bare heels and spread her thighs wide. She slid her hand beneath the waistband of her knickers and pushed two fingers into her pussy, taking care to avoid her clit. Shuddering at the sensation, she arched into her own touch and started stroking and pinching her nipples with her other hand.

Mike’s passion-hungry stare flashed repeatedly from Molly to Lestrade and back. The sight of his queen and his willing captive in the throes of excitement sent him over the edge: after a few more hard thrusts that nearly threw Lestrade into the headboard, he tossed his head back and came.

The DI moaned as the hot load filled his body. The forceful fucking and its attendant prostate stimulation had left him so hard that precome slid down his shaft in thick rivulets, and if he hadn’t been gagged he would have begged for relief. When Mike slumped onto him he squirmed, trying to rub his cock against the other man’s belly, but a hand quickly slid between their bodies and gave his balls a stern tug.

“Remember why you’re here, Gregory.”

Lestrade whimpered and nodded.

When Mike finally pulled out and slid off the bed to bin the condom, Molly crawled over, tongue tracing her red lips.

“My turn,” she said.

Lestrade jumped when her fingers trailed over his bare chest. Using her nails and teeth, she teased his nipples into hard little nubs, delighting in the way his breathing turned ragged and his strong hips pushed upward again in search of friction. She accommodated him part-way by taking his cock into her hand and beginning a slow, teasing exploration with her tongue.

She hadn’t done this in ages: not since the time in uni when Matt Davis shoved her head down suddenly and made her sick. Here and now was different: she was in control, the one who decided who was doing what and when. Confidence soaring, she licked up and down the shaft and gave the weeping tip a teasing tongue-flutter each time she reached it, making Lestrade sob with need.

Mike was just as awed. His eyes devoured her as she worked, flagging cock twitching in renewed interest. When she felt the first tremors of  Lestrade’s imminent orgasm, Molly pulled her mouth back with a wet pop and said, “Come here, Mike.”

He climbed back onto the bed and approached on his hands and knees, scanning her and, in all likelihood, knowing what she was going to do before she did it. Which was why Molly didn’t feel the least bit guilty when she gave Lestrade a few slick-fisted thrusts, making him thrash in his bindings just before he came- all over Mike’s face.


	13. Chapter 13

She thrilled with pleasure as she watched the thick white essence trickle down Mike’s forehead, cheeks, and chin. What delighted her even more was when he lowered his eyes and murmured, “Thank you.”

“You were supposed to fuck him until he came all over you,” she smirked.

“My apologies.”

Mike’s tongue darted out and licked traces of semen off his lips. Inspired, Molly nodded down at Lestrade.

“Untie him.”

“As you wish.”

Mike undid the policeman’s wrist restraints, gently massaging each limb before setting it down. When he removed the blindfold and gag, Lestrade blinked, rotated his jaw, and rasped, “Don’t suppose I could have some water?”

“Certainly.” Mike pulled a bottle of Perrier out of an ice-cooled silver bucket on the nightstand. After sucking it back gratefully, Lestrade slumped back onto the mattress and turned to Molly.

“Hey,” he smiled. “Did you ever think this was on the agenda tonight?”

“In my dreams, maybe. You two looked amazing together.”

The two men gazed at each other. Lestrade looked awed and a little shy, while Mike preened like a cat with a face full for cream. Which he actually resembled right now.

“It appears that we all found it amazing,” he said before shifting his stare to Molly. “Now I do believe it is your turn, my queen.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Molly slid her knickers off, tossed them to the carpet, and reclined on the bed next to Lestrade. She was hopelessly wet and so excited that breathing normally was next to impossible. “Remember what comes next?”

“You, if we have anything to say about it.” Mike crawled between her splayed thighs and settled onto his belly.

When he pressed his warm mouth to the inside of her right thigh, Molly arched her back and uttered a moan that Lestrade silenced with his own lips. She could smell herself, moist and eager and wanting.

“Exquisite indeed,” Mike murmured as he kissed her other thigh. As she exchanged a deep and fierce kiss with Lestrade, Molly grabbed the back of the other man’s head, pulling him forward. Much as she loved his ridiculously hot Oxford pleasantries, all she wanted right now was his tongue in her cunt.

Mike gave her what she craved, pushing her thighs further apart and burying his tongue between them. At the same time, Lestrade broke their kiss and lowered his mouth to her nipples. The right one disappeared between his lips, where it was sucked and nipped until she had to bite her wrist to muffle her screams. The two of them were brilliant: they read her body flawlessly, zeroing in on the places where her squirms and moans signalled greater sensitivity.

Mike slid two fingers into her hot channel to give it the fullness and friction she craved. “Oh God,” she cried as he simultaneously lapped at her clit. “Oh FUCK!”

Mike and Lestrade sucked and bit at her harder, until her back arched off the mattress and she came all over the former’s face, her primal and salty juices mixing with Lestrade’s essence. Mike kept licking, tongue movements now softer, until she went still and gently pushed his head back. Then he budged up further so he could rest his cheek against her soft belly while Lestrade nestled his face between her breasts.

“Good boys,” she said at last, thrilling inside at the thought of two such powerful men being her ‘boys’. Peering down, she saw that both of them were already hardening a second time. “Now I decide who fucks me first.”

They raised their heads from her warm flesh, looking so much like dogs awaiting a treat that it was hard to not giggle.

“You were both so amazing that neither of you deserves second place. So I want you both at once: Mike in my pussy-” she ruffled his sweat-tangled reddish hair “-and you, Mr. Lestrade, in my arse.”


	14. Chapter 14

They assembled into position like players in an edgy porn flick, mattress creaking and their breathing quick and ragged. Mike rolled onto his back and after applying a condom to his erection, Molly mounted him, letting out an uninhibited moan as his girth forced her open and made her ache. Lestrade knelt behind her, straddling Mike’s thighs and kissing the back of her neck.

Mike’s face glowed with awe and lust as he stared up at her, which made Molly feel smug and triumphant. When he saw Lestrade reach for the lube, his expression intensified to pure worship.

“You’re a goddess,” he said.

Yes, she was, right now. She wished she could stay here forever.

“Lean forward,” Lestrade said, gently pressing on the small of her back.

Molly shifted, planting her hands on Mike’s chest and leaning down until her nipples brushed his chest. He raised his hands to her slim hips and rocked into her, slow and easy strokes that made her throb for more.

Lestrade’s slippery finger began circling Molly’s arsehole, an intimate and -for her- daring novelty that renewed her arousal fast. His teasing movements made her hyper-aware of that whole erogenous zone, causing her to squirm with impatience when he only pressed the tip in for a few seconds at a time.

“Easy,” he laughed before sliding his entire finger in. Molly sighed and made herself relax, letting him penetrate her to the knuckle. She felt so stuffed, shifting on Mike’s shaft while Lestrade slid another finger inside.

“Alright?” Lestrade asked, rubbing the soft skin of her back as he finger-fucked her arse slowly.

“Yes,” she managed to say, which was an understatement. It was more than ‘alright’- it was incredible.

Mike reached up and brushed some stray tendrils of hair away from her face as he studied her, detecting her pleasure and rotating his hips to excite her further. His cock rubbed all over her walls, hitting the right spots like he knew her inside as well as out. Which he did.

Behind her, Lestrade murmured, “You’re doing great.” He pressed his fingers in deeper, making her gasp. Mike stroked her lips with his thumb, absorbing her with his brilliant blue eyes like a connoisseur taking in his favourite treasure.

Molly closed her eyes and sank into the achy pleasure of sitting on a huge cock while Lestrade opened her up with three fingers now. He was being really careful and considerate, but soon she was so turned on and frustrated that she blurted, “I’m prepared enough! Please- let’s do this!”

Mike said nothing, instinctively knowing that she was ready, but Lestrade hesitated.

"You sure?"

“Yes,” she said, sounding more impatient than she meant to.

“Alright then.” There’s no mistaking the eagerness in the policeman’s voice. As he worked his fingers out, Molly leaned toward Mike and kissed him, inhaling his ragged breath and letting him absorb hers in turn. Her arsehole felt slick and stretched and empty, but when she heard the wet sounds of Lestrade lubing up his cock, she knew the feeling was only temporary.

The mattress creaked as he altered his position, and then the head of his erection nudged against her hole. The tip spread her open, its girth surpassing that of his fingers and making her whimper. When he started to push forward, she winced at the light stab of pain.

Mike cupped her cheek and made her look at him. “Don’t tense up. Breathe and bear down.”

She obeyed, and the tension dissolved, allowing Lestrade to push deeper inside. She could feel both their cocks filling her, and knew that they had to be able to feel each other too. Molly bit her lip and squirmed around, trying to get comfortable. Her movements caused Mike to make a little noise.

“You are a jewel, Molly Hooper,” he said as he began to gently rub her clit.

Molly squeezed her eyes shut and took it all in. She couldn’t believe that she had two large cocks inside her right now, that she could take that much and not split apart. She inhaled deeply, relaxing enough to let Lestrade sink all the way inside and press his sweaty chest against her back.

“Okay?” he managed.

“Yes,” she replied, feeling so wet and open and aroused and _damn it_ , she just wanted them to _move_. She shifted her hips again so that their erections slid in and out of her. It was only by an inch or two, but the effect on both men was electric: Lestrade groaned and bit her shoulder and Mike’s other hand left bruises on her hipbones.

“Move,” she ordered.

Mike, being on the bottom, could only make small thrusts, but Lestrade was completely uninhibited: after moving out of her arse slowly and carefully, he pushed back in faster. When Molly showed no signs of discomfort, he picked up the pace, his thrusts growing stronger until he was literally sliding her up and down Mike’s cock. Beneath them, Mike was red-faced and breathing hard, but he fingered Molly’s clit without interruption.

Molly dropped her head to Mike’s muscular shoulder. Keeping her eyes shut, she focused on how intense and hot this whole scenario was. Lestrade was fucking her like a jackhammer now, bumping her along Mike’s cock and pushing her clit harder against Mike’s skilled fingers.

God, she was close. Groaning, she tried to move so that Mike’s shaft pressed against that sweet spot inside her. She found it just as Lestrade shoved her forward, intensifying the sensation and making her scream.

Mike, astute as always, used the hand on her hip to anchor her firmly in place. “Fuck her harder,” he ordered, so Lestrade did, pinning her between their bodies and forcing her clit against Mike’s palm.

“Come now, my queen,” he urged as he rotated his palm, which was slick with her juices.

Molly’s eyes flew open. A second later she had the most body-shaking orgasm she’d ever experienced, one that made her shudder and squeeze around both their cocks. After a few more thrusts Lestrade came too, shooting heavily into the condom. Mike, lip bright red between his perfectly white teeth, shoved his hips up and brought the team orgasm count to a perfect three.

******

For awhile they laid there in a sticky and hot pile, too exhausted to move, their combined breathing loud and harsh in the otherwise silent room. Finally Lestrade spoke, his voice harsh from all the exertion.

“Fuck. Happy birthday to all of us after that.”

He carefully pulled out of Molly and climbed off the bed to bin the condom. When he returned he flopped onto the duvet beside them and draped one arm across Molly, who was still collapsed on Mike’s chest, her cheek against his skin.

“Indeed.” Mike was softening inside her, but made no effort to move.

They might have fallen asleep like that had a commotion not erupted in the hallway outside the suite.

“I said _move_! My brother’s taken this silly game too far and it stops now!”

Sherlock.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW for depression and suicide idealization.**

He was in the room before any of them could cover up, leaving two worried-looking security officers in his wake. Towering over the trio on the bed like a Greek Fury in a Belstaff coat, Sherlock jabbed an accusing finger at Molly.

“Does your gullibility know no bounds? Or for that matter, your desperation? This is pathetic- I actually thought better of you.”

His insults made her cringe: they always did. Snatching up a pillow and using it to cover her breasts, she cried, “What are you doing here?”

“Give it a rest, Sherlock! Christ!” Unabashed in his nudity, Lestrade bounded off the bed and strode over to the irate detective, gesturing toward the open door. “This is a private party. Out!”

Sherlock ignored him, attention still focused on Molly.

“My brother is using you,” he said. “He has been since the beginning. He claims to now be infatuated, but he’s really trying to score a victory over me, however minor.”

“Brother?” She turned to Mike, who appeared to be teetering between sick dismay and murderous rage. “Mike, what is he talking about?”

“Mike?” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “You don’t even let Mummy call you that.”

“You insufferable child!” Like Lestrade, Mike threw off the sheets, leaped to his feet without any self-consciousness, and approached Sherlock. “How _dare_ you?”

“How dare I? I only told you to get her off my back, not put her on your pathetic excuse for a willy. This is all down to you, Mycroft.”

Molly listened to the exchange, which was laden with the contempt and familiarity typical of warring siblings. Her mind ran through the unsettling similarities she’d noticed between her old crush and new love: their quicksilver intellects, deductive brilliance, and ability to see and correctly interpret what others couldn’t.

She felt sick. But she needed to be sure before her heart broke. Eyes burning, she whispered, “Mike, is it true?”

The anguish in his expression confirmed it. Turning from Sherlock, he approached the bed, holding his hands out to her.

“Molly, however this all started, you need to know that it has since changed. My feelings for you are real.”

Sherlock snorted. “Real good acting, you mean.”

Mike -Mycroft- whirled about and backhanded his brother so violently that blood from Sherlock’s nose hit the wall. Lestrade jumped between them before a second punch could be thrown, and the security officers rushed into the room to assist.

During the uproar, Molly scrambled off the bed, hoping that her rubbery legs would hold her up. She grabbed her dress, pulled it on, and shoved her feet into her shoes. Although two Holmeses were in the room, no one noticed when she snatched her bag off the floor and fled the suite.

She didn’t start crying until the lift doors closed. Then she leaned against the mirrored wall and let huge sobs shake her small frame.

How could she have thought that after a lifetime of loneliness and romantic disappointment, she’d finally found happiness? Over the years, she’d come to believe that experiencing true and reciprocated love had been like winning the lottery: it was a fantastic and life-changing event that only happened to others, never her.

Mike’s -no, he was Mycroft, wasn’t he?- deception yanked other buried traumas from their memory graves. She remembered girlhood invitations to nonexistent sleepovers and parties, all extended solely for the malicious amusement of her tormentors; mocking and giggling voices on the phone just before the line went dead, and ‘best’ friends who withdrew due to peer pressure or the simple fact that she now bored them. Even when she was in uni and embarking on a career there were dismissive remarks about her clothes and appearance, dates who suddenly canceled and holidays spent alone.

When the lift doors swooshed open, Molly inhaled deeply and wiped her eyes. She’d had enough. The rollercoaster ride of dashed hopes and shattered feelings ended tonight.

_I only told you to get her off my back, not put her on your pathetic excuse for a willy...._

Sherlock was finally the death of her.

******

Heads turned as she exited the building, but no one stopped her, not even the concierge: apparently it was not uncommon to see devastated women flee these posh premises. Not caring anymore what onlookers might think, Molly hailed a cab and told the driver to take her to Barts.

The man nodded. But when the vehicle pulled out into the evening traffic, he eyed her in the rearview mirror.

“You alright, Miss?”

She managed a weak smile. “Yes, thank you.”

“You sure? Pardon me for asking, but you seem upset.”

“It won’t last,” she said, truthfully.

“Some bloke treated you wrong, did he?”

“More than one, actually.”

His back stiffened. “Listen, do you need to go to A&E?”

_God, no_ , Molly thought. _They’d only stop me._ But she only shook her head.

“No, nothing like that happened. Honestly. Look, please, I work at Barts and need to pick up some files to bring home.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Would you like me to wait for you and take you home? I won’t charge extra.”

His kindness made her feel worse, but she said, “That would be nice, actually. Thank you.”

She closed her eyes for the rest of the ride, not wanting to gaze at the laughing couples strolling in the streets and entertain hopes that maybe one day it would be all right for her too. Tonight just proved that it never would be.

Molly had the cabbie drop her off at the hospital entrance. She’d wiped her face clean of the tearstained makeup and pulled her hair back into its usual ponytail. The night security officer raised an eyebrow at her slinky dress and heels, but only nodded when she said she’d been out clubbing and had to get some files from her office before heading home.

“I’ll be quick,” she promised. “I have a cab waiting.”

She bypassed the office and lab where she practically lived, and darted into the ladies’ room. After giving herself permission to cry again, she took out her mobile, found the last text message that Mycroft Holmes had sent her, and sent a reply.

_Goodbye, Mike._

Then she threw the device in the toilet, not wanting him to track it by GPS and stop her. After regaining her composure, Molly left the room and sought out the nondescript door leading to the hospital stairwell.

Ten minutes later, she was on the roof.


	16. Chapter 16

As Molly looked down, she tried to will her fear away. Closing her eyes, she remembered her last date with Jim from IT, who’d turned out to be someone far more sinister.

They had been at their favourite pub, sipping pints and making fun of Sherlock, when a news flash came on the TV screen behind the bar. A politician’s son, despondent over a broken engagement, had hurled himself off of a hotel roof. Molly had shuddered in sympathy and horror, but Jim had only smiled and patted her hand.

“It’s not such a bad way to go, actually. Falling is a lot like flying-  except there’s a more permanent destination.”

She extended the tip of one shoe over the edge. The night breezes played with her face and hair like soothing angels, trying to assure her that it would not be so bad after all.

_Just close your eyes and don’t look down._

Molly closed her eyes and slid her foot out further.

_I’m afraid of a lot of things, but flying isn’t one of them._

She took a deep breath and let her shoulders fall forward, throwing herself off-balance.

_Here it comes...._

She was nearly airborne when someone grasped her around the middle, forcing her arms against her sides and dragging her backward. Too shocked to protest, she let them manhandle her away from the ledge.

Who was doing this to her, just when she’d gotten the courage to end the torture? Who was forcing her back into a world determined to reject her? Was it Mycroft Holmes, come to make everything all right, if that was even possible?

Molly began to sob. As she started to turn her head, a familiar voice tickled her ear, but it wasn’t the one she was expecting.

“I’m disappointed in you, Molls. You let those nasty brothers nearly break you.”

It was Jim from IT.

James Moriarty.

******

Shock made her go still. For a second. Then she opened her mouth to scream like a banshee, but his gloved palm silenced her, so she settled for putting up such a fight that he grunted and cursed.

“My, my, is that a way to say thank you for saving your life? Naughty girl!”

Molly tried to bite his hand, but he shifted his thumb to cover her nose too.

“Don’t,” he growled.

Feeling her lungs spasm in warning, she stilled and let him pull her further away from the ledge.

“Good girl. I’d have hated to end up flinging you so soon after saving you.”

His hand slipped away from her face. She wet her lips and exclaimed, “Why? What do you want?”

“To see you live. You’re much more valuable to me alive right now, Molls.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Why not?” His other hand slid up from her waist to just below her breasts. “You used to like it when I called you that.”

“That was before I realised who you were.” Tears, hot and scorching, wet her cheeks. She wrenched herself away, and this time he did not stop her, although she knew he’d be on her the moment she bolted for the ledge. “A fucking psychopath.”

Moonlight played across Moriarty’s flawlessly white teeth as he giggled. It was a noise that sounded both boyish and deadly.

“You always had a thing for psychopaths, didn’t you? Sherlock liked you better as his personal barista and morgue maid, so you found me.”

“He’s a high-functioning sociopath,” she blurted, trying hard to control her trembling. Behind him, she could see two large men flanking the door leading to the roof, cutting off escape by that route. She took a step back, but he followed her.

“Same difference, _Molls_.”

Not wanting to indulge in a war of words with a criminal whose intelligence dominated hers, Molly gritted her teeth. The sorrow, shock, and fury brewing in her were nearing combustion point and she wanted to scream again.

Moriarty was watching her closely, reading her the way Sherlock always could. “You don’t have to take any more games from the Holmes boys, you know.”

“I know!” she hissed, taking small satisfaction from the way he flinched when her spittle sprayed his face. “You stopped me from making sure of that.”

“I’m here to offer you an alternative to making yourself a pavement decoration. I can give you vindication. Revenge.”

Revenge. For Molly, it was an alien notion, right up there with ‘true love’ and ‘personal wealth’. Not that she hadn’t tried, in the past. When she was a teenager and learned about sleepovers she had been deliberately excluded from, she’d exploded in tears and self-pity, and then tried doing things like sending pizzas to their house or posting ‘Sophie / Mandy / Anna is a slag’ in livejournal comments. She had always been found out and ostracised further for it, forcing her to turn her rage inward. Where it still resided, and where Jim Moriarty, the ultimate connoisseur of violent emotions, could see it.

“How?” she blurted. “Even if I want your help- which I _don’t_ \- how can you possibly undo what I’ve been through?”

“Why should I undo it?” He cocked his head as he studied her. “There’s fire in your eyes right now, and I like it. You’ve had enough, but you were about to deal with it the wrong way.” He stepped toward her. When she didn’t back away, he smiled again. “Work with me. Help me melt the Ice Man. Make him burn for what he did to you.”

“Who?”

Behind them both, Mycroft Holmes said, “I think he means me.”


End file.
